


Budding Romance

by playout, PrinnPrick



Series: The Sward of Gryffindor [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, HP: EWE, M/M, POV Alternating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playout/pseuds/playout, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinnPrick/pseuds/PrinnPrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry bought flowers. Draco bought a tart. It's obvious they like each other. What happens next?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Budding Romance

**Author's Note:**

> This installment picks up where the previous two chapters left off, only now PrinnPrick is involved (reprising the role of Draco) so my sweet, G-rated series has been upgraded all the way to E (because she and I just can't help ourselves). 
> 
> To those of you rejoicing, you're welcome. 
> 
> To those of you who are disappointed, I'm sorry. 
> 
> To those of you who are new to this universe, hello! I hope you will enjoy <3

Draco returned to the Manor with the tart and bouquet balanced in the supplies crate, which he carefully levitated by his side (he was unwilling to risk damaging any of the haul by shrinking it). 

Harry, surprisingly punctual for once, arrived just as he'd begun putting everything away, looking annoyingly cheerful with his dopey grin (and annoyingly, ruggedly handsome in his uniform). He let himself into Draco's potions lab as if he'd been invited. (He had not.)

"You bought me flowers," Draco said, almost accusingly, dispensing with the formality of a greeting and crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
"I did," Harry replied, unabashedly leaning his hip on the the edge of Draco's cutting table. "Who's that for?" he added cheekily, peering at the pink bakery box with a greedy glint in his eyes. 

~~~

Harry pretended to be braver than he felt. Draco had stopped organizing his purchase so he could appraise him through narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his burgundy waistcoat.

Not quite the enthusiastic response he'd wanted.

"Do you like them?" he asked hopefully, rubbing the back of his neck and offering a lopsided smile.

 ~~~

It was almost amusing... Check that, it was _entirely_ amusing to see the Saviour of the Wizarding World shuffling himself against Draco's table with growing anxiety over a need for his approval. It took quite a bit of strength to suppress a smirk and instead quirk one fine brow at the man, as if that would be enough answer for the next solid minute of silence, before turning away to close his cabinets.

"I suppose they're adequate," he replied, gingerly lifting the entire vase and walking it to a small lounge almost hidden in a dark corner on the far side of the room.

When he approached, a number of candles lit instantly. 

It had a couch with chocolate cushions, a chair, and a coffee table in dark cherry oak. Just a place where he could relax and wait for certain potions to brew or would entertain company on the extremely rare occasions he allowed any into his lab. 

The flowers were set on the table and rotated for best effect. Draco jabbed a finger to the chair.

"Sit," he ordered. "I bought you a treat and I won't have you eating it over my work station. I recall quite clearly your lack of civilized masticating."

~~~

 _'Adequate,' he says_. Harry rolled his eyes.

He didn't know why he'd expected anything different. After more than a year of weekly visits with the prat, he was well enough acquainted with Draco's particular brand of self-expression to know that it was generally limited to sharp criticism, lukewarm commentary, and backhanded compliments. A genuine and unqualified thank you from the man was rare as a ruddy unicorn.

But he hadn't kicked Harry out. Yet.

That was something, at least.

Draco usually didn't let him linger in the lab--he said Harry's mere presence was enough to upset the delicate balance of his brews and the more volatile ingredients--but he'd just invited Harry (well, commanded him, really) to join him in the little lounge area that always sat dark and unattended on the other side of the room.

Harry took courage in the gesture...and in the mention of a treat. Draco's purchase of the item was the most reciprocal he'd ever been with a gift (if it was, in fact, a response to the flowers). 

He crossed the lab to take the proffered seat, trying to subdue the bubbly optimism that compelled him to do something rash. 

Draco bought him trinkets on occasion. For someone whose parents had shown him affection almost exclusively by buying things, Harry knew the act of giving a gift was more meaningful for Draco than the gift itself, though he was often quite thoughtful in his selections, as well. (Which is why, after he'd settled on the flowers as a bridge to the conversation he planned on having that afternoon, Harry spent literal weeks pouring through pureblood manuals on the symbolic meanings of each and every bloody plant lest he accidentally offend Draco with the Daisy of Death or Iris of Misfortune or something.)

He treasured every one of Draco's gifts. First had been a high-end broom polishing kit...delivered with an unsubtle dig about how much time Harry must spend 'polishing his broom' due to his non-existent dating life. Then there was a fine silver chain necklace with a durable shield charm woven into its links (since he was apparently insistent on standing in front of every curse a dark wizard might throw at him rather than using the most basic of defensive maneuvers, to hear Draco say it). After that was a beautiful gold pocket watch (to aid in his 'deplorable lack of punctuality'). And sprinkled throughout had been an assortment of baked goods--for when he was looking particularly scrawny or his joints were distracting Draco by being 'as knobby as a house-elf's'.

He glanced at the flowers, glowing gold in the flickering warmth of the candlelight. Draco could have left them on his cutting table, but he'd made a point of bringing them there. Harry smiled, feeling as warm and golden as the arrangement looked.

Harry caught Draco's eye and declared (with as much pomp as he could possibly muster so Draco would have no doubt about his sarcastic intent), "I will endeavor to masticate with care and great tact so as to not offend your exquisitely refined sensibilities."

~~~

As soon as the Boy Who Snarked was seated, Draco returned to the cutting table to retrieve the aforementioned treat. It was a particularly large treacle tart with a gentle dusting of powdered sugar decorating its gooey surface. He brought it to Harry and dropped it into his hands without expression.

"Now be quiet and eat," he instructed. "I have work to do and I don't need your interruptions." Harry smirked and Draco arched a disdainful brow at him for the audacity.

"Will you require silverware," he inquired dryly, glancing at the pastry box, "or do you plan to paw at it like you do almost everything else?"

His mouth twisted slightly at the unintended double meaning of his words. Harry hadn't touched him in any way besides accidental or platonic (during the course of Draco's probation, that is), but the idea of it was becoming...less unpleasant.

Well. If he were being perfectly honest--which he rarely did because it was seldom beneficial to do so--a large part of him hoped that Harry would change tacks soon. Maybe even that afternoon. But, of course, if he were to try, Draco would not be so compliant as to give in right away. He still had his pride as a Malfoy to consider.

"Do you even know what 'masticate' means?"

~~~

Harry ignored Draco's jibe in favour of opening the box and beaming at the treacle tart it contained. Not only was it his favourite, but it was from his favourite bakery to boot. That was practically a declaration of love as far as he was concerned.

He considered eating the tart barehanded just to annoy Draco, but quickly thought better of it--he didn't want to be evicted from the lab so soon after being given more access than ever before, particularly not if Draco planned to brew while he was in there. He hadn't seen the potions prodigy at work since Hogwarts and he enjoyed watching people display high level technical skills. (Especially when said people looked as fine as Draco while they did it.)

"A spoon will do, thank you."

A house-elf--Misty? Blinky? _Derwent_? Draco had so many, it was hard to keep track of them--appeared with a linen napkin and a shiny silver spoon almost before he was done speaking. He thanked it and it bowed and disapparated with a crack. He then tucked into his treat enthusiastically, humming with pleasure at the sweet, buttery richness. 

"And I do know what the word means, you knob," he said around a large mouthful (giving in to the urge to offend Draco's delicate sensitivities just a tad). "Hermione's been one of my best friends for more than a decade--you think I haven't picked up a decent vocabulary after spending so much time with her?"

He leaned back in the chair and propped his feet up on the table, risking Draco's ire for the sake of comfort. "This is really good, by the way," he added just before sticking another giant spoonful into his mouth. " _Wamp fum?_ "

He couldn't keep the mischievous grin off his face at Draco's appalled expression.

~~~

A disgusted grimace graced Draco's fair features as the green-eyed devil displayed the entirety of his half-chewed bite.

"Do try to remember where you are," he snapped. "That is manticore hide you are sitting on, and that table your smelly boots are saddled over is older than both of us combined. Now either put your feet on the floor where they belong and eat your damned tart like a civilized person or I'll demand you vacate my labs. And, no, you plebeian menace, I do not 'want some'."

~~~

Harry snickered but did as he was told, putting his feet down and snapping his lips shut.

It was too bad Draco had declined his offer, though. He'd dreamed up some rather creative ways to share a taste...

With that in mind, he gave his spoon an unnecessarily long lick while staring boldly at the prickly Slytherin.

"Your loss," he shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

~~~

Draco stared on as Harry licked his spoon with rather excessive thoroughness. His frown deepened, though it was rather difficult to look away-- especially when Harry flicked his tongue over the rounded tip.

The blonde jerked his attention back to his work room and walked briskly away from his lounge to a cauldron already seated on a burner.

There was a collection of vital tools nearby, including a number of ancient knives hanging from the walls (arranged with meticulous precision). Draco smirked deviously at the thought of dragging the dull edge of one across Harry's skin in slow, sensual threat, but approaching an Auror with a sharp weapon seemed rather unwise so the idea was quickly shoved to the back of his mind. Instead, he grabbed a set of silver measuring spoons.

"I need to concentrate," he said brusquely. "So feel free to leave as soon as you're finished." He pinned Harry with a heavy gaze to remind him to do so quietly. 

Not that Draco necessarily wanted him to go. Quite the opposite, really--he'd be overjoyed if Harry decided never to leave--but that was yet another thought he elected to box for later examination.

What was even more surprising, Draco realized with a start that almost caused him to drop the spoons, was that Potter had been _Harry_ in his mind all afternoon long, even before the man arrived. It had been so natural he hadn't thought twice about it.

~~~

Harry did an internal victory dance. Draco (perfect, prideful, put-together Draco) was rattled. He'd caught himself staring and quickly pretended that hadn't been the case but Harry wasn't an Auror for nothing. He noticed details like that; they provided critical information in an interview or interrogation. Draco's iron guard had been slipping more often as of late. That was part of the reason he'd gotten it into his head that his not-strictly-friendly feelings mightn't been entirely one-sided.

"You know I have to have something to put into my report," he replied, spoon poised for another bite. "It can't just say, 'Malfoy bought me a tart. Didn't attempt to murder me. Looked fit in his hundred galleon trousers." (Oh Merlin, he was taking a gamble on that one.) His stomach did a flip and he rushed past the flirty joke. "Have you frightened any old ladies recently? Stuck a kneazle in a tree? Spread rumors about the Minister? Performed dark rituals by moonlight?"

~~~

Just as Draco had begun to pluck from the wall his necessary tools for a somewhat lengthy project of a potion, he stopped. His hand laid over a crystal knife with a fine bone handle. He blinked and turned to quirk a brow at Potter.

_Did he just...?_

Harry-- _Potter--_ blinked owlishly at him. Draco didn't think the pink tinge to his cheeks was a trick of the light _._ Potter offered him a crooked smile and took another too-large bite. 

_I think he did!_

"Well," he began slowly, his own mouth quirking into a suggestive half-smile, "I do know a few rituals best done by moonlight... But they don't necessarily involve magic. _Or_ trousers, costly or otherwise."

He turned back to his task as if they were merely discussing the weather. He stepped away from his wall of instruments to casually stroll to his ingredients cupboard. ('Casual' meaning he swayed his hips purposely as he passed through Harry's field of vision.)

Would Harry take that bait?

~~~

 _Oh ho! That was a flirt. And honest-to-Godrick flirt._ And if he wasn't entirely mistaken (he really didn't think he was), there was a deliberately suggestive swing in Draco's step when he went to gather his supplies.

Any doubt Harry might have harbored was eliminated when Draco bent over to look through the jars on the lowermost shelf of his cupboard, tight little arse prominently on display. He'd caught Harry's eye for an instant before turning his attention to the ingredients and there had been a decidedly knowing glint in the silver.

Harry licked the smooth fronts of his teeth and stared. (If the man was offering, who was he to refuse?)

"I'm not sure I like the sound of those rituals, Malfoy," he replied in a husky parody of his Serious Auror Voice. "They seem awfully nefarious. I'm going to need you to tell me more about them to make sure you haven't violated the terms of your probation."

~~~

Draco's wide grin was hidden by his search for the necessary ingredients (he only needed one thing from the bottom and it was right at the front, though he pretended not to notice for now.) Once he felt satisfied that Potter had taken his fill of gawking--and then some--he stood up straight with a jar of what appeared to be parts of an animal's muscle, dried, but still quite red. He turned it around in his hands appraisingly before shutting the door and walking back to his cauldron.

Maybe he'd spent too much time with the present company: he was feeling brash. A seductive lilt decorated his voice as he hummed at Har-- _Potter_  (that was a losing battle) thoughtfully.

"Well, I usually begin by finding a comfortable place to lay down. Somewhere outside, mossy... Damp. It doesn't work well unless I'm _wet_ , you see."

He placed the jar on the table and turned his back to Potter once again, gathering supplies of a different sort. 

"It's best done in the light of a full moon--easier to see by and there's more of a magical charge in the air. I usually only bother with a thin dressing gown since I prefer my nice robes to remain clean. Whatever I'm wearing is going to come off anyway- for this ritual, I mean."

~~~

Merlin.

Harry gulped, feeling dangerously in over his head. On the one hand, he did not want Draco to stop talking about...whatever he was talking about. On the other, he knew better than to play conversational chicken with the man. He would lose every time.

His libido won out over his better judgement (what else is new).

"What happens next?" he prompted, sounding slightly strangled.

~~~

Draco continued, almost clinically, over the sound of glasses gently clinking together, "Well, after establishing a proper place with a full view of the moon..." He had two tumblers in hand and was pouring a generous amount of firewhiskey in each--his 'just in case' collection hidden in the wall near the entrance. Once done, he walked back to Potter and offered him one of them...by gently sliding the chilled glass along Potter's heated neck. (Cowardice had gotten him nowhere worth being in his life--now was the time for boldness.) The bottom of the tumbler almost dipped into Potter's robes before he finally took it from Draco's hand.

Draco, feeling rather smug, took a small sip and and a step back--just out of arm's reach. "I have to be in a certain 'mood', so to speak, before the process can truly begin," he continued, voice as smooth as the amber liquid in his glass. "Before my robe can be removed, my body must be appropriately... Stimulated."

~~~

It was an unsteady hand that raised the tumbler to Harry's mouth (and another that bumped his glasses back up his nose when they slid down).  

He drank automatically, without care for or attention to whatever he'd been served.

The burn of the firewhisky had a grounding effect, for which he was grateful. Without it he was liable to do something rash. (It was a knife's edge he walked, however; too much of the drink and he was bound to do something rash anyway.)

He took another swallow for good measure.

"I think I'm beginning to have a better understanding of this ritual," he rasped, throat raw from the whiskey and Draco-induced dryness. He set the tumbler on the table (alongside his forgotten treacle tart) and leaned forward in his chair, resting much of his weight on one arm. "It doesn't seem as dark as I first feared. Unless you're about to get to the bit about the virgin sacrifice?" he joked lamely.

~~~

"Getting there," Draco responded cheekily as he drank from his own glass. He walked to the back of Harry's chair and forced him to sit up straight. Harry stared with wide, hunted eyes. They were impossibly green.

Smirking, Draco trailed the fingertips of his right hand across Harry's jaw and down. He skillfully undid the clasp of the Auror's robes, followed by the first two buttons of the starched shirt beneath. 

"Now, about stimulation," his voice was serious again, and oh-so-low, "I always begin with my chest. I'm quite sensitive there."

His fingers, with a light, almost ticklish touch, began to climb down into Harry's top, over tan, supple skin, not stopping until the tips reached the peak of a nipple.

"I like to _tug_ ," he pinched his forefinger and thumb on the nub and pulled gently, " _twist_ ," he turned it firmly between his fingers, "and _flick_ my nipples until the skin is so tight it tingles."

He let go and his hand dipped down further until he could circle Harry's navel, his lips were nearly touching his probation attendant's ear.

"My navel is also rather sensitive," he breathed, voice a steamy caress. "I like to play with it a bit before I get to the main _thrust_ of the ritual."

~~~

Harry whimpered.

He would like to believe that the sound he made was more manly--a growl or deep groan, perhaps--but it had been an undeniably pathetic whine. He pushed his head into the plump cushion of the high-backed chair and closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of Draco's body looming over his own, the hot humidity of his breath against his ear, and the searing brand of the nimble hand snaked into his shirt, which circled his navel and dipped inside before retreating to tangle in and gently tug the dark hairs trailing below.

Candlelight flickered behind his eyelids.

He wished they were on the couch instead--Draco wouldn't have as much furniture to hide behind and there was more room for two to share. Not that Harry was opposed to pulling the fiendish tempter onto his lap; he was a hair's breadth from doing so, in fact, when Draco walked his fingers lower, sneaking into the waistband of his trousers and leaning until his lips brushed Harry's clavicle in order to reach so far.

He gripped the chair's armrests tightly, biting his bottom lip and pressing his feet hard to the floor to keep from humping up into Draco's hand. His chest rose and fell rapidly, in time with the quick, shallow breaths whistling through his nose; it pressed against Draco's mouth on each inhale, an opportunity he used to tease him further with feather-light flicks of his tongue along the exposed bit of skin.

"And then what?" Harry urged, voice rough and ragged.

~~~

The trousers the Auror wore were almost too tight for Draco's hand to fit through, but fit it did. He searched, squeezed, and teased around the base of Harry's growing cock. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the texture of it--the weight, the heat, and every small twitch--until his own resolve gave way and he grasped Potter's member with a firm grip.

"Then, I like to open the slip of my dressing gown and slide my hands up and down my inner-thighs until my cock begins to stiffen," he murmured. "That's when I finally toss the thing aside, open my legs, and bend my knees until I'm exposed to all the stars."

The tip of Potter's cock was already weeping. Draco tickled the moist slit with the tip of his finger.

"I grasp my cock for only a moment. It just needs to be hard, after all, and I can't cum yet...Once I'm sensitized, enough that even a small breeze could almost send me over the edge, that's when the real fun begins."

Draco turned his head nipped Harry's neck just under his jaw. He licked a long stripe over the spot, along the jugular.

"Normally I bring a jar full of thick, rich honey lubricant with me. I'll gather a generous amount and slick it across my cock first... Have you ever seen a wet, pulsing erection in the moonlight before? Mine's warm, smells delicious, and the moon glitters off the skin until it looks like glass. But that isn't what the lubricant is for...

"Once everything has been prepared I shove three fingers in my arse at once. I'll start thrusting, despite the burn, and just let my cock bounce against my stomach. The tip is usually dripping by then, so each slap against my abdomen leaves a bigger, stickier spot than the last. I fuck myself on my hand until I cum. I don't even bother to hide the sound of my completion out in the crisp night air."

With a final, parting squeeze, he slowly slid his hand out of Harry's trousers. Through it all, he'd had his drink skillfully held in his left. He finished off with a heavy swig as he walked casually away from the chair.

"I usually let my cum dry a little before cleaning it up... Unless I get it on my face. Sometimes I can't control myself at all and cum so hard it catches on my cheek. Anyway," he said lightly, as if he hadn't just been manhandling Potter or whispering about masturbation, "that is my nefarious moonlit ritual."  

He set the empty tumbler on the table next to Harry's. With a smirk, he licked the accumulated precum off his finger and smartly asked, "Any more questions?"

~~~

Harry's mind stuttered through a hundred different false starts. It was ruddy impossible to think with all the blood in his body busy making his prick rock-hard. And the way Draco licked his finger clean then stood there smirking like he hadn't just had his hand shoved down Harry's trousers, the very picture of composure except for the slight flush to his cheeks, both infuriated and aroused him further. He was sorely tempted to tackle the smug bastard to the sofa, but cooler heads prevailed. Harry didn't want a quick shag--

That wasn't true. There was very little he wanted more at the moment than that shag. But he didn't want the shag _alone_. If submitting to his baser instincts meant jeopardizing what more there could possibly be between them, even their unlikely friendship, it wasn't worth it.

Draco studied him with sparkling eyes, just out of his reach (unless he lunged).

Harry took a long, shaky breath, for which his oxygen-deprived lungs thanked him. "I have one more question," he said, "and it needs a serious answer."

He swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his hair. Draco didn't acknowledge that he'd spoken except to lose the smirk and narrow his eyes.

"I don't do one-offs, Draco," he stated earnestly, almost plaintively, after licking dry lips. "What is the long-term potential here? "

~~~

"The long-term potential?" Draco nearly rolled his eyes at the typical Gryffindor attitude. "Well, since my intentions apparently weren't clear..." he sniffed. "I don't put my hands on anyone like that unless I am claiming them for mine. I don't like to share, Potter. And I assumed from the flowers that you wanted me for the same--to be yours and yours alone. You aren't exactly hard to read..."

Another smirk graced his pointed features.

"Like right now you're wondering what position would be best for tackling me to the floor. Or would you rather drag me to the sofa? Be forewarned: I bite."

~~~

Merlin's lacy undergarments.

Harry nearly whimpered again but he bit back the sound--if Draco could play it cool, so could he, damn it. He was an _Auror_ , for Godrick's sake. A highly accomplished one, at that. He collected his resolve and stood slowly, meeting Draco's impish and impatient gaze with a steady, smoldering one of his own.

He retrieved his glass from the table for a last bracing swallow, never breaking eye contact as he held the tumbler to his lips and drank. He didn't miss the way Draco's eyes flickered to the bob of his Adam's apple; he hid his smile in the cup. When he set it down again, he touched the tip of his tongue to his upper lip to catch a drop of firewhisky clinging there. Draco swallowed visibly.

Harry stalked forward, closing the distance between them in just two steps. He stopped when they were nearly chest to chest, skin tingling from the electric charge of the magic leaping between the two of them. Draco didn't flinch, but his absolute stillness belied his tension.

Harry held his right hand out to his side and summoned the blade Draco had selected to prep his abandoned potion. Draco's eyes widened like saucers when the handle smacked firmly into his open palm, point angled downward. He swallowed again, a nervous tell. The more anxious he seemed, the bolder Harry felt.

He flashed a feral smile. "You're not the only one who bites," he growled, claiming Draco's mouth in a savage kiss that had a good deal more tooth to it than was strictly necessary and knocked his glasses askew. 

~~~

The crystal blade glinted almost maliciously in the dim candlelight    after skidding traitorously from the counter and into the Auror's waiting hand.

Though Draco was never very nervous around sharp things in general, having a knife wielded by another--someone he had technically wronged with all his teasing--was not something his nerves took lightly to. And it had been such a heady thing to watch Harry-fucking- _Potter_ licking his lips while his brilliant eyes darkened with lust for and because of the ex-Death Eater. Now, Draco wondered (with a definite increase in his heart rate) what revenge the man was cooking up. 

The kiss that came after Potter claimed the knife was itself not unexpected, but the absolute savagery of it was. Draco was forced backwards until his legs bumped the (luckily) sturdy work table and he was suddenly being bent half-over it from the pressure of the kiss, which was nearly interrupted when he yiped upon his lip being painfully bitten. One hand grasped at the material of Harry's still unclasped robes while the other desperately sought to keep him steady.

A moan escaped between them and Draco's eyes fluttered. It was hard to breathe with his mouth being so thoroughly plundered and his hips painfully pressed between the table and Potter's weight. He had only a second to smugly note how hard the other man really was before he was falling backwards--Harry following after.

There was something so incredibly sexy about being dominated by what was essentially a very dangerous (and thankfully noble) wizard like Potter. In truth, Draco normally abhorred the loss of control, but this was something else entirely. He lifted his legs to loosely hang them over Harry's hips, his cock straining against the costly material of his trousers. He arched himself from the table until he could relieve some of the pressure by sliding his erection over the matching one Harry sported.

~~~

Draco wrapped his long legs around Harry's middle and arched up off the table, grinding their pelvises together. The press of his cock sent a jolt through Harry that had him rutting back, heedless of the table's protesting creak or the way it inched across the floor (he did spare a moment of amusement at the thought Draco had been so concerned about crumbs in his workspace but now he didn't seem at all troubled by the potentially larger mess they were about to make). He pulled his glasses off, sucked Draco's kiss-swollen lower lip between his teeth, and bit down hard enough to draw another yelp from the beautiful man. He then soothed the sting with long, lapping strokes of his tongue, devouring Draco's moans as he continued to thrust against him.

He didn't know if the story Draco'd painted of his late night escapades had any truth to it, but the thought of all that creamy skin exposed to the moonlight as Draco shamelessly brought himself off was almost enough to send Harry over the edge. He wanted to watch Draco prepare himself, get himself slick and loose and ready, and then he wanted to take him, claim him, have him. 'Yours and yours alone,' he had said. Harry shuddered. He left Draco's mouth to nip his way across his angled jaw and down the column of his throat, alternating between little bites and gentle kisses. Draco arched and panted beneath him, submitting fully to Harry's assault in a way he never would have expected from the usually domineering Slytherin.

He knotted the fingers of his free hand in the fine hairs of Draco's head to pull it to the side and expose his throat; he sucked a vibrant lovebite into the unblemished skin near the hollow where Draco's rapid heart beat could be seen as well as felt. Draco whined but didn't protest or pull away, instead releasing the loose-hanging front of Harry's robes to clutch at his back.

Using the heel of the hand holding the vicious-looking knife, Harry pushed himself up until he could stare Draco in the eye. "I am going to position you how I want you," he explained lowly, enjoying the hitch in Draco's breath at his words. "You are to stay perfectly still and not say a word, unless you need me to stop. If you do, I will, and I promise not to hurt you, but I want you to follow my directions otherwise.

"Can you do that?"

~~~

Draco released a shuddering breath as his neck was marked. There was a hint of smile in his thin lips at the action, despite the fact it had been more of an animalistic geture than affection. Harry just marked him...

His skin felt flushed with desire, both his cock and heart leaping with every hard, crushing thrust. No one had dared attempt to touch, much less _demand_ , his body like this before (for good reason, as the Slytherin would have hexed their balls to the size of grapefruits for trying.) It was an unexpected thrill.

His hands slid down the Gryffindor's back while he squeezed his sides and hips until he could slip his hands into Harry's back pockets. With a firm bite to Harry's throat in 'retaliation' for the mark, Draco grasped the Auror's firm arse and spread his cheeks through the material, filling his hands.

Without removing himself from his new squeeze toy, he leaned back and quirked his brow in question.

"You want me to lay back and take it...?" he asked with hard buck of his hips. "I suppose I could be convinced--just this once--to follow orders, but it better be worth it. And I expect you to stay for dinner. _And_ breakfast. And to come back after work."

~~~

Harry flexed his arse beneath Draco's kneading hands and grinned. The man had no idea what he'd just agreed to.

"You have yourself a deal," he replied, extricating himself from Draco's grip. "The terms start now, so no snide commentary or backtalk."

Draco made a show of pressing his lips together, even as he lifted his brows at Harry in challenge.

He was going to enjoy this.

"Budge up," he directed, helping Draco scoot onto the table top until his arse was fully supported. "Arms up here." He placed Draco's arms over his head so that his hands dangled off the other end (trying to fix in his mind the memory of Draco's willing obedience, rare as it was). His mouth watered at the sight of the rangy blond stretched out and docilely awaiting his next instruction. He brandished the knife. Its wicked edge glinted in the light. Draco's eyes snapped to it, then returned to Harry's searchingly.

Harry's smile was slow and predatory.

"This ritual doesn't involve well fitting, expensive trousers," he explained, voice laden with dark promise as he echoed Draco's teasing words from before. He worked the blade under Draco's lacings--pulled tight by his straining erection--and jerked upward, neatly slicing through the ties.

~~~

For a brief, horrified second Draco really thought Harry might pierce his skin. The look on his face and the dangerous quirk of his mouth was nearly enough to cause him to back out of the deal in a panic... Until he remembered exactly who it was hovering over him with the knife. When it came right down to it, he knew that his--yes, _his_ \--Gryffindor would rather carve his own liver out than willingly hurt another. (Dark Lords and other malcontents not included.)

The long fingers of Draco's hands curled over the edge of the table and held tight to its smooth, polished surface. He had to bite his lip hard to keep from sniping at the barbarian when his favourite pair of trousers were callously ruined. He gasped with surprise, but was otherwise silent.

 _This better be worth it!_ he grumbled internally as he stared down at Harry. _That was custom made Italian craftsmanship._

Clinging to his annoyance was one of the few tools left in Draco's arsenal of sanity. (Having his trousers sliced so close to his crotch was a much bigger turn on than he'd even admit to himself.) He had no pants underneath, so with the lacings gone, his cock was free to spring out--hard, eager, and leaking prodigiously.

~~~

Harry subconsciously licked his lips at the sight: Draco's cock flushed red and with a pearly drop of precome, enticingly framed by the now-gaping fly. He didn't give in to the urge to take it into his mouth, however. Draco had been a cruel tease--it was his turn to repay the favour.

Harry deftly wielded the knife to remove the three shiny buttons of Draco's waistcoat, giving the same treatment to the smaller buttons of his shirt beneath when he was through. He used the tip of the blade to carefully spread the loose-hanging fabric and drank in the sight of Draco's pale, lean torso and the attractive blush spreading on his chest and neck.

Draco watched him warily all the while. He couldn't seem to make up his mind on how he felt about Harry's treatment--he was patently irritated by the wanton destruction of his clothing, but his rapid breathing and heavy-lidded eyes betrayed his conflictive arousal.

Harry smirked. Bracing himself over Draco on the palm of his left hand, he trailed the dull edge of the knife down Draco's throat, pulling it over one taut nipple, lower still across the flat plane of his stomach (taking special care to circle his navel), and finally resting near his heavy cock.

Draco didn't dare squirm beneath him but Harry could see the struggle in his straining muscles. Satisfied that he was suitably chastened, Harry set the knife aside and ghosted his lips on the skin below Draco's ear. He then followed with his tongue the path the blade had set.

~~~

_Who knew a knife could be so sexy?_

Draco breathed carefully as the luminescent tool was carefully scraped across his skin--having to bite his lip again to smother the moan that threatened to escape when the cold tip tickled his nipple and traced around his belly. His toes curled in his bespoke Italian loafers.

(No wonder Harry had required him to keep his mouth shut, though--his best shirt, excellent trousers, and a perfectly nice waistcoat were destroyed; the buttons could be sewn back on and lacings reworked but repair jobs never looked as good as the original tailoring.)

Suddenly, the knife was gone and in its place a beautifully wet, hot tongue laving across his neck and sensitized torso. Draco gripped the table until his knuckles were white with the effort of keeping his back hard against the smooth, cherry surface instead of arching into the Auror's mouth like his body begged. His cock tightened and twitched without consent until the slit opened wide enough to drip clear, sticky fluid down the reddened body to puddle in the curls at its base. His eyes shut tight and his teeth pulled mercilessly at his bottom lip.

~~~

Poised just above Draco's gorgeous weeping cock, Harry peered at him through his fringe. He was a sight to behold--eyes screwed tightly shut, hands gripping hard to the table's edge, lower lip stretched by his straight white teeth, flush spreading up from his chest to his cheeks, body taut as a bowstring.

"Draco," he murmured to get the man's attention.

Draco's cock jumped at the warm puff of air, nearly smacking Harry in the chin; he cracked one silver-ringed eye and looked down his nose at him, somehow managing to appear haughty and condescending even in his debauched state.

Harry's grin was pure mischief.

"Feel free to make all the noise you like," he said...before swallowing him to the hilt.

~~~

_Cocky...Sexy...bastard..._

Even Draco's thoughts were breathless as he stared at the unexpectedly roguish Gryffindor. However, the tone of his thoughts mattered little when his cock was suddenly engulfed. His hips instinctively widened to welcome the Harry's broad shoulders. He cried out with abandon and his head fell back with a "clunk!" onto the table.

"Merlin, Salazar--fuck! Nnn... Fuck, _Harry_... Your mouth is so hot...!" Draco's lips twisted in the hint of a smirk as he openly moaned, hissed, and groaned deeply his approval, hoping to further excite and shock his new lover. (It should be noted, however, that he was only half-acting with his loud cries of ecstasy.)

"Ah, Harry... _Harry!_ "

~~~

As before, Draco took the direction surprisingly well--he spurred Harry on like a highly-paid rentboy.

He knew Draco was pouring it on thick for his benefit (and perhaps in an act of rebellion after having been silenced for long minutes) but he was not about to complain. Hearing his name spill from Draco's lips--at turns breathless and throaty, depending on what he happened to be doing with his own lips at the moment--was a tremendous turn-on.

So was the velvety weight of Draco's cock and the bittersweet tang of precome in his mouth.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, relaxed his jaw, and sank back down until the entirety of Draco's slightly-better-than-average length was sheathed, the tip pressing lightly against the back of his throat. He swallowed around it so the muscles of his throat gripped the head. Pooling saliva dribbled down his chin as Draco quivered and moaned beneath him.

He cupped and rolled Draco's heavy bollocks in one hand and passed the other, open-palmed, over the bumps and ridges of his abdomen until his fingertips found a nipple. He tugged and twisted and flicked as Draco'd said he liked, keeping up the pressure on his cock with a steady suck-and-bob until he was sure the sounds Draco was making were no longer just for show.

~~~

"Who the hell else have you been sucking to get this good?!" Draco growled, his voice roughened from pleasure and a sudden spike of intense jealousy. There was a threat with the question. Not toward Harry but to anyone who might have had the Saviour's mouth on them like that. 

It was driving him to near insanity being unable to move. He wanted to buck his hips, arch his back, slide his hands through those thick, black locks, but he was actually afraid that if he did move without instruction Harry might stop and leave him right there on the edge... Which is exactly where he was. His eyes began to roll back into his head with the effort to keep from coming once his ticklish abdomen was petted and his nipple taken and so skillfully stimulated.

 _I suppose it's a good thing he doesn't know my other hot spots or I'd be doomed.._. he thought vaguely with mixed relief and disappointment. Though with the way things were going, it was soon to be a moot point.

"Harry, I... I'm--!"

~~~

Harry felt Draco's bollocks draw up and tighten in his hand, the man's thighs and abdomen shaking so hard they threatened to dislodge him. He didn't need Draco's choked warning to know he was close. He entertained the notion of pulling off and leaving him hanging, but the fact of the matter was, he wanted Draco to come in his mouth almost as much as Draco probably wanted to do it.

Plus, Harry thought, he'd been so good about staying still, he deserved a reward.

He took Draco deeply one last time and massaged the underside of his cock with his tongue while pinching his nipple firmly. Draco cried out and spent himself in a series of juddering convulsions, each one sending another spurt of hot, bitter come down his throat. He swallowed thickly, milking a final spasm from him and drew off with an obscenely wet pop, a string of saliva and come connecting him to Draco's glistening cockhead as he pulled away.

Harry licked his tingling lips and grinned smugly at the boneless ruin of Draco Malfoy, who panted heavily on his precious cutting table.

~~~

Draco was lightheaded from the rush of his orgasm. He couldn't remember coming so hard in all his life. His legs and arms laid limp on both ends of the table as his eyes cast across the ceiling lazily. He licked his drying lips and finally deigned to speak once his lungs no longer burned.

"Answer... the question," he heaved. "I want to know who I have to first thank and then make disappear for that."

His head was still laid heavily against the table, which left his neck vulnerable. He closed his eyes slowly, feeling exhausted. Usually orgasms were as energizing as a cup of coffee, but he also had never felt his muscles convulsing so violently or nearly suffocated due to one before.

~~~

Harry chuckled, vicariously satisfied enough to ignore his insistent hard-on for the time being. "Are you sure you want me to answer? It looks as though you'd rather have a kip."

He leaned forward to press soft kisses to Draco's stomach.

~~~

"You're impossible," Draco groused once he was finally settling from his high. He assumed the game Potter was playing was over and slowly moved to sit up on his elbows. Gossamer locks, once firmly slicked into place, curled gently around his ears from drenching sweat. It was already a little stuffy in the room before his body had been subjected to the onslaught of heat.

"Is that all, then?" he asked with a playful smirk. "I would reciprocate, but unless you plan to dangle it over my mouth, I'm afraid you will have to wait until next time. I'm dreadfully tired, you see. I doubt I'll have the energy to work, much less give you a well-deserved suck. Perhaps you can finish your forgotten treat," he suggested, referring to the treacle tart.

~~~

"I should've known you'd be a selfish prick after orgasm," Harry chided without heat, still dotting Draco's abdomen with kisses. "While your incredibly generous offer is tempting," he replied sarcastically, standing upright between his legs, "I have something else in mind."

He began to tug Draco's trousers down over his hips. "I haven't forgotten my treat," he said lowly. "I'm _just_ getting started."

He smirked at Draco and pulled his trousers the rest of the way down, taking his loafers with them. "Let me show you what else I can do with my tongue."

~~~

Draco licked his upper lip seductively as he was divested of his trousers and shoes. "But Auror Potter," he said playfully, "I've been so bad... Whatever do you plan to do with me? I don't even have my wand to defend myself..."

Which was true, he realized with no small measure of dismay. He had left it upstairs in his haste to get to the lab.

In the end, the once overly-cautious Slytherin mentally shrugged and instead lifted a hand to caress his own hip. Silver met brilliant green as he whimpered in an affectedly needy, helpless whine.

~~~

Only Draco could be such a smart ass two minutes after receiving truly excellent head (if Harry said so himself, and he did).

But Harry'd shut him up once, he could do it again.

He pulled Draco's legs over his shoulders and hoisted up his hips until only his upper back remained on the table, his wet, flaccid cock hanging limply between them. (Harry might be short, but he didn't want for upper body strength.)

He grasped Draco's arsecheeks, simultaneously spreading them open and using the grip to support the other man's weight, and dove in between them without hesitation. As someone who generally preferred to top, he considered it his duty--and a point of pride--to deliver a first-rate rim job.

He began with broad, flat licks that went from Draco's tailbone all the way to his perineum, savouring the musky flavour and silently thanking the compulsively fastidious man for his comprehensive hygiene practices.

  
~~~

Draco slid down the table with a surprised chuckle. He fell from his elbows back onto the hard wood and lifted his hands over his head once again to loosely circle around his golden crown. Even given Harry's occupation, Draco was impressed (and turned on) by his strength. For a brief moment, he wondered if Harry could fuck him in mid-air without help from a weightless charm and the very fantasy of it was enough to get his spent cock stirring--that, and the delicious trail left by Harry's wonderfully talented tongue.

He groaned deep into his throat.

"Do you even know where that's been?" he asked after a moment, feeling oddly silly. "Highly unsanitary..."

~~~

"I know where it's going to be," Harry retorted smartly, pausing only long enough to deliver the line before circling Draco's hole with the pointed tip of his tongue. He sealed his lips around the furrowed entrance and pressed his tongue inside for a dirty snog, humming as he did so to send vibrations through Draco's body.

~~~

Draco was effectively silenced, besides a rough gasp, as his pucker was overtaken by Harry's eager lips. His legs widened in unconscious invitation and stiffened over the Auror's broad shoulders in response to such delightful ministrations.

"Nn," the Slytherin breathed as he tossed his head to the side and arched his lifted back. "Maybe... Ah, maybe it should be _me_ worrying... About if this is a one-off... I can't imagine who would be, ngggh... Stupid enough... To let you go..."

Draco's hands reached for the edge of the table, the end closest to Harry. He used what little strength he had left to buck against his lover's perfect mouth.

~~~

Harry firmed his grip to ensure Draco didn't accidentally squirm out of it and smirked against his quivering hole. He alternated between quick, fluttering licks to the outside and thrusting his tongue inside as far as it would go, eating Draco out like he born to it until his abused jaw began to ache. Over the course of a few minutes, Draco's prick had impressively rebounded. That wasn't necessary for what Harry hoped to do next, but it was a nice surprise.

He took a break and rested his head against Draco's thigh. "Fingers next," he asked, slightly out of breath, "or are you ready enough?"

~~~

Draco considered sarcasm. He considered snobbery, discontent, dismissiveness, and every other possible reply he could give that would be perfectly typical of the pure-blood, but now that they were at the final moment (one he'd entertained fantasies about but never truly believed would actually happen) he decide to go for something unexpected of his own: a bit of Hufflepuff sentiment to go with the Hufflepuff gesture of his gift. 

"I'm all yours, Harry," he smiled gently (the effect diminished somewhat by the ridiculous position he was still being held in, with his chin tucked into his chest and spine curved unflatteringly). "Whatever you want to do with me will be more than enough to satisfy my needs, I'm sure."

His smile took on a wry quirk. "Just as long as you keep your clothes on," he bargained, ignoring the uncomfortable way his vertebrae were digging into the table top. "The whole ensemble is incredibly sexy on you. Have I mentioned that I love a man in uniform?"

~~~

Harry huffed a laugh. Draco had begun disarmingly heartfelt but veered back toward his usual flippancy at the end. He gingerly eased him down to the table--much as Harry enjoyed the view the position afforded him, his lower back was beginning to protest and it was a absurd to carry on a conversation with the wrong end of the man.

"Love, you say?" he joked lightly (half joked. Eh. Quarter joked. Well, it wasn't _entirely_ serious...but he also really wanted to know how Draco felt without asking him directly). "You have to be careful throwing that word around with a Gryffindor. We're liable to believe it."

In response, an enigmatic look passed over Draco's features that Harry resolved to explore later. Draco'd said they had time. (That thought--Godrick, that thought made him dizzy with optimism.)

He leaned over Draco, palms braced on the table, and murmured, "There is way too much I want to do with you to try all of it now, but there's always tonight, and before breakfast tomorrow, and after work, and..." he left the list open-ended and offered Draco a sweet, slightly shy smile, his bravado from earlier dried up in the face of this seldom-seen, softened version of the man of his dreams. 

Merlin's pants, Harry's feelings were all over the place, bouncing around inside him like Wheezes gone wild: hopefulness, irritation, blinding lust, amusement, exasperation, fondness, lo--

Er, the other one.

Being with Draco was an emotional roller coaster.

But then he was something of an adrenaline junkie, wasn't he, so it all worked out.

"Have you got any lube?"

~~~

Now that Harry was hanging over him, Draco was able to grab the man by his loose robes and force him down into a _proper_ first kiss; one that was less teeth and more than the right amount of lips and thrusting tongue. He closed his eyes as he slid the tip over Harry's pulse point and deep into his throat before exploring every erogenous zone he could find.

It only lasted a couple of minutes before he regretfully pulled away with an audible smack.

"Yes, I have lube," he answered, "but it's in my bedroom. Just get the vanilla oil from the cupboard... It's a bit dry, but it'll do."

~~~

Rather than taking his chances rifling through Draco's well-stocked supply cupboard, Harry used accio and hoped for the best. Sure enough, a little blue bottle flew into his outstretched hand.

"You're fortunate that was at the front, you brute," Draco scolded, smacking him on the chest. "Did you stop for one second to consider what would have happened had it been on the back of the shelf?"

Oh.

Harry was appropriately chagrined. He offered Draco a lopsided smile and said, "Let me make it up to you?" as he poured a generous amount of the fragrant oil into his palm. Draco huffed but let the subject drop.

Harry directed him to prop his feet up on the tabletop and cant his hips, whispering his thanks when Draco complied. He then traced his slick fingers over Draco's waiting hole and plunged two inside (taking the liberty because of Draco's description of the rough way he treated himself).

~~~

Draco's sardonic smirk and half-hearted glare at Harry's usual brashness were quickly replaced by furrowed brows and lip biting. His hands grasped the table's edge. The  oil was dry as he said; it certainly helped Harry's fingers with entry, but the texture wouldn't smooth easily over the intruding digits or his insides. There was a definite burn with every thrust into his still eager hole.

"You have to keep adding more oil... Use the whole damn thing if you must, or else you might as well just plug me now."

It was a crude way to describe sex, but the smirk on his face revealed he'd said it more for the shock value rather than having 'lost himself' to passion.

"I told you, the oil is dry. Thick and stubborn--just like you." The effect of Draco's insult was somewhat diminished by his panting and grunting. "Though, I think your musk when you arrive after a hard mission is much more...Enticing."

~~~

"Shit, Draco," Harry breathed, dropping his forehead to Draco's knee and stilling his hand. "Your room's not that far." (That was a relative statement, it wasn't far by the Manor's expansive standards, but it may as well be in another house for any normal person.) He lifted his face, balancing his chin on Draco's knee now and stroking his hip with free hand. "We could use real lube and you'd have a nice, soft mattress under you. Wouldn't you rather be more comfortable?"

~~~

Draco arched a brow. Harry's solicitous concern was incongruous with his earlier behaviour. "I am not the one who bent me over a table and sliced up my best clothes," he retorted. The words were something he usually would have snapped, but the memory of being seduced so close to danger caused him to purr instead. 

"In truth, I haven't had anyone in my bedroom before," he admitted, spurred by Harry's open, steady gaze. "I think of it as sacred space. But if you swear to be respectful, I can Apparate us right to the bed."

He forced Harry to lean forward again before whispering in a hot, silky voice, "Though I'm almost tempted to forgo the prepping entirely now that I know for a fact your cock is thick, long, and something I can't wait to have fucking me into whatever surface we happen to use." Harry's face contorted with want; Draco twisted the knife. "I want you to fuck me until I need assistance walking." 

~~~

"Oh Merlin," Harry whimpered, so far past caring about how pathetic he sounded. "That. Yes, please."

Draco flexed his interior muscles, vice-like on Harry's fingers, bringing his attentions back to the task quite literally at hand.

"Either use the oil generously as I instructed," he said, "or remove your fingers so I can Apparate us without you accidentally wounding me."

~~~

Harry gently, regretfully did as he was told and helped Draco off the table. He then playfully straightened his gaping shirt and waistcoat over his lean torso, enjoying the look sans-trousers immensely.

He rested his hands low on Draco's back, just above the swell of his arse, and pulled him in as if for a slow dance. "Ready when you are," he said quietly, body thrumming with giddy anticipation.

~~~

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and pulled him in close. He pressed their bruised lips together--no more than a peck--then smirked as he slid his hand over Harry's thigh where his wand holster sat, purposely taking his time gliding his fingers over the Auror's hip as he passed.

Wand in hand, he Apparated them to his bedroom without delay, pleased beyond words the bit of wood was as responsive to him as its owner seemed to be. 

  
"However," he began (after the almost nauseating side-effect of the mode of travel diminished), "I expect you to finish what you started downstairs. Proper lube or no."

  
Suddenly, Draco flipped up Harry's wand and stared at it in dismay. 

  
"I have been spending far too much time with Gryffindors," he lamented, shaking his head with self-derision. "We could simply have conjured the lube."

~~~

Bloody hell. Harry could kick himself. What self-respecting Auror forgets he's carrying a wand?!

One faced with a naked and eager Draco Malfoy, that's who. Harry may very well have forgotten his own birthday while the criminally sexy man moaned and writhed beneath him. 

At least their mutual idiocy got him into Draco's bedroom. The space was as cavernous and richly decorated as one would expect for the Manor, but it was very obviously his. Harry couldn't quite pinpoint what exactly made it so, but he would have known it with certainty even if he hadn't been told beforehand.

He felt honored and privileged to be there. And he pretended that was his clever plan all along. "You fell for my ruse, Malfoy," he teased, still not releasing his hold on Draco. "I've been plotting how to get into your room for months. I just know you're hiding all sorts of wicked things in here. And now I'm going to make you tell me all your secrets."

He smoothed his hands over the globes of Draco's arse to cup it firmly and leaned in for a kiss.

~~~

Draco gave Harry a knowing smirk while the man--who was rather endearingly bad at lying--attempted to cover his tracks. He rolled his eyes, though a small smile betrayed his lack of true annoyance.

He wondered just how long Harry'd been planning this, really. He spared a moment of regret for lost time but vowed to make up for it, starting right then.   
  
"Oh really?" he drawled. "How dreadfully clever of you. And how embarrassing for me that I fell for it." His tone was unmistakably sarcastic, but he played along. "You should know, Auror Potter, that I am _quite_ wicked. And I have all sorts hidden secrets. But I won't give them up easily. You'll have to force them out of me."  
  
He dropped the wand unceremoniously to the floor before lacing his arms once more around Harry's thick, tanned neck, noting briefly how much paler his arms were compared to Harry's almost olive shade of delicious, kissable skin. His tongue wet his lips subconsciously, craving a taste, but before he could make a dive toward that tempting stretch, his mouth was caught in a deep, sensual kiss.

Their bodies pressed together as Draco guided them across the room, his tongue tangling aggressively with Harry's (with the intent of erasing all memory of anyone else who might have had the privilege of a taste) on the way.

He kissed with finesse--long, purposeful strokes, gentle sucking, teeth tugging at soft, full lips--until he could hardly breathe and saliva began to pool at the corners of his mouth. Together they fell to the bed, with him straddling Harry's muscular thighs.  
  
"I do believe," he broke the kiss with a wet smack and grinned down at his 'captive' with a mischievous light in his eyes, "I have the upper hand now." He pinned Harry's hands over his head as he adjusted his seat and legs more securely. When he was positioned directly on the tent in the Auror's trousers, he took a minute to maneuver his hips and rub his arse over the trapped length until both cheeks were open and cradling Harry's cock.

  
"Now I have a few questions of my own, Hero Boy," he declared with a roguish grin. "And you're going to answer them... Or do I have to torture you?"

~~~

"Oh no," Harry replied, flat and stilted as a performer in a primary school production, despite how much he was enjoying the way Draco moved above him. "I have fallen for your seduction and into your evil clutches. What ever shall I do?" 

While he was submitting gladly, he wouldn't want the Slytherin to mistake him for helpless--there was no telling what Draco would do with Harry fully at his mercy (especially after what had been done to his outfit). So, without warning, he thrust up hard enough to lift Draco from the mattress.

"Do you think I'm scared of a little bit of torture, Malfoy?" he goaded, smirking challenge. "Do. Your. Worst."

...In retrospect, that may not have been the wisest choice he'd ever made.

~~~

Draco's playful smile turned absolutely feral at that declaration, but first things first...

He slid his hands away from Harry's in order to push the ruined fabric of his shirt and waistcoat off his shoulders and throw it aside. Once that was done, he lifted his hips just high enough for his deft fingers to undo the Auror's black dress slacks. He quietly pondered as to when Harry had acquired such fine trousers, but the idea of the hapless Gryffindor actually having a modicum of fashion sense was (surprisingly) not his main concern at the moment.   
  
As soon as his prisoner's hard cock was pulled free of its cotton confides, Draco sat back down exactly as he had before: cheeks spread, saddled firmly over Harry's hot manhood. He groaned as their bare skin met for the first time, not having expected it to feel as good as it did (and it did. It really fucking did.)

~~~

Harry stifled a moan when Draco's fingers deftly found their way back into his trousers, but it only delayed the inevitable; they groaned in unison when the blond seated himself on Harry's long-neglected cock and his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when Draco started grinding in earnest. 

He hadn't been explicitly forbidden from moving so he tested his bounds by placing a hand on each of Draco's sharp hip bones and rocking against him. He bit his lip against the overwhelming sensation of sliding along the hot, oiled crack he was nestled in.

~~~

Draco was panting with lust. His head fell back, eyes shut tight and  lip was once again being pulled to its limit between his teeth to keep the keening that threatened from escaping. Harry's cock was like fire on the thin skin of his perineum, and the thrusting left him with a sensation that was beyond definition (though certain terms like 'incredible' and 'earth shattering' were close.)

"Salazar," he gasped. "The lube is on the counter behind you... Get it before I lose it."

~~~

Harry didn't have to be told twice. He cast about, stretching to reach the ceramic pot Draco indicated without dislodging the man (who was apparently uninterested in dismounting even for the two seconds it would take Harry to get the bloody thing if he weren't so encumbered). Shoving against the mattress with his heels gave him just enough reach to nudge it off the counter with his fingertips; he used his rusty Seeker's reflexes to snatch it out of the air as it fell.

Trying his damnedest to ignore Draco's sinful gyrating long enough to actually use the stuff, Harry unscrewed the cap and peered inside. The substance looked and smelled just like honey and his cocked twitched at the new association. (Breakfast and tea time might become awkward if he grew hard whenever he was exposed to the formerly innocuous sweetener.) He scooped some out with his fingers and found it was thinner and runnier than real honey, but still thicker than most lubes he had encountered before.

"Does it taste as good as it smells?" he asked as he reached between them to tease Draco's entrance. If so, he already had some ideas for the future...

 

 

~~~

Draco arched his spine into Harry's searching hand to make the task easier. His own hands moved to grasp Harry's chest and proceeded to squeeze the firm, well-defined muscles of his pectorals. 

"It is edible," he replied as he finally stilled his thrusting long enough to allow the Auror's fingers back inside. The burning stretch was a welcome sensation, as was the slippery addition of the lube. "Perhaps I'll slather it all over your cock and suck you off for breakfast," he suggested, mostly to see how Harry would react. "Of course I must also apply it to your nipples, stomach, shoulders, neck, arse, and back for it to be a complete meal," he added cheekily. "Warm it up a bit so it will pour like syrup..."

He leaned forward as he spoke until he was close enough to bite Harry's earlobe. He swirled his tongue over the plane and then tickled the tip across the narrow shell.

 

 

~~~

" _Fuck_ , Draco," Harry groaned, due simultaneously to the tight, clinging heat around his fingers, the way Draco scraped a nail over one of his nipples, and the filthy promises he was whispering into his ear. 

He couldn't find the words to properly respond so he focused on replying with his hands instead, curling two fingers against the front wall of Draco's rectum in search of his prostate and wrapping the other hand around his jutting cock to tug. 

 

 

"You're so fucking perfect," he breathed, struggling to take in every sensation, every sound, every look that crossed Draco's features. In any other context those words would have been bitter or sarcastic, but he meant them sincerely. Reverently.

He was lost.

~~~

Draco bucked back into Harry's searching digits once they were secured inside. He accidentally mewled when Harry probed perilously close to that particular bundle of nerves.  
  
"Almost Harry... Almost," he practically begged the nearer the strokes got. A moment later, his eyes blew wide open and a loud, deep groan escaped.

~~~

Harry's face split into a self-satisfied grin when Draco suddenly arched backwards with a rumble of appreciation. 

Unsure how much stimulation the man preferred, he tried a series of experimental touches--from light, glancing brushes of just his fingertips to firm circles with the pads directly on the sensitive knot, watching closely for any indication of what Draco liked best and keeping up a steady rhythm of wanking with his other hand. He wanted to drive him to the brink (he knew wasn't going to last long once he was sunk deep in that hot, narrow channel). 

Godrick, he might come just from this. 

"You feel so good," he breathed after a guttural moan of his own. "Tell me what you want me to do."

~~~

Draco's head fell forward with a whine, his platinum hair falling past his forehead and over his eyes--a noise repeated every time Harry firmly massaged his prostate. The little touches tickled, but pressing on his nerves almost sent him over the edge each and every time.

"Huh... That's enough... With fingers..." He gasped as his whole body stilled through a great amount of willpower.

"Did you just ask what I want you to do?" he demanded, incredulous. He turned his silver eyes (once a sharp grey and now a deep mercury) up toward Harry through his loose fringe. He half-glared at the man and growled dangerously, "I want you to _fuck me_."

~~~

 

 

With a level of restraint that surprised even him, Harry carefully removed his hands from Draco's body and took a single steadying breath, never breaking the electric eye contact with which Draco had speared him. 

Draco looked like a winter storm personified, thunderclouds within his eyes and flashes of lightning hanging about his face, body heaving with intensity and barely contained menace, heat and ozone pouring off of him in waves. Wild magic crackled along the surface of Harry's skin making his fine hairs stand on end. He didn't know if it belonged to him, Draco, a combination of the two, or something more primal. He didn't care to find out. 

With a growl of his own, he employed a maneuver that, for all his joking earlier, had been developed for use against dark wizards and other hostile combatants--he knocked Draco's arms out from under him and twisted him bodily with a strategically-placed thigh, turning and rising as he did so until their positions were reversed. 

Draco blinked owlishly at him, seemingly unclear on how he'd ended up his back. Harry grinned wickedly, hooking his arms under Draco's knees and heaving them up. "I am going to fuck you now, Draco," he whispered, voice as rough as gravel. 

As if there had been any doubt.

~~~

There was quite the undignified gasp ripped from the Slytherin's throat as he was tossed over the bed with minimal effort. He watched the Auror drape his legs over his shoulders as his confusion settled and his usual snark returned. 

"I meant it when I said I love a man in uniform," he reiterated, with that same demanding, lustful glare from before. "You're so fucking sexy..."

~~~

 

 

Harry grinned as he slathered his cock with lube, cast a perfunctory protection charm (somewhat belated given the things they had done already), and lined himself up with Draco's entrance. "If I had known it was such a turn on for you, I would have worn my dress uniform for every visit," he quipped. 

Any lingering cheek disappeared the instant he started pressing inward. Even with the prep, the tightness took his breath away.

More than that, though, was the fact that it was _Draco_. 

~~~

Draco had begun to chuckle at Harry's declaration but the first demanding thrust chased his laughter away.

"Nnn... Don't be gentle now... Fuck me," he groaned as his hands grasped the blankets of his once neatly made bed. With the thick material caught beneath them for leverage, his narrow hips were pushed against Harry until he felt the ring of his sphincter pop open to accommodate the Auror's girth. "Come on, I want it..."

~~~

Harry surged forward and made a choking noise (somewhere between a gasp and a sob) as he drove almost all the way in. Draco's commands conflicted sharply with his natural inclination to start slow and easy but they were music to the ears of his frenzied libido.

He drew most of the way back, only to slam in again, hilting himself fully this time. His balls tightened and eyes fell shut as the tension coiling in his belly nearly snapped at the sensation of Hot-Wet-Tight- _Merlin_. He paused to draw a ragged breath, willing his impending orgasm to subside for just a little while longer. 

Taking one large step back from the precipice, he opened his eyes and locked onto Draco's. Gripping his hips hard enough to leave marks, Harry angled his pelvis such that his thrusts would be aligned with his best approximation of Draco's prostate and began humping at a punishing pace.

~~~

_There it is..._

Draco's lithe legs were twitching helplessly over his lover's shoulders after the rough entry and he was forced to suck in a sharp breath. Hardened, steely eyes bore into brilliant green through an intense, desire-ridden gaze.

For an instant, it seemed like Harry might take things slow after all; the overtly long pause after sheathing himself inside evidenced what was clearly the wrong assumption. Just before Draco could begin renewed demands, Harry began to fuck him as hard as he had asked.

" _Oh_...  That's better... Almost tolerable, even." Despite his lukewarm commentary, each syllable was delivered through a struggled wheeze in an attempt to prevent wanton moaning. Where he had been as loud as he wanted to torture Harry before, now he wanted to make him work for it.

 

 

~~~

Harry would have laughed at Draco's contrived disinterest but that would have taken his attention away from fucking him until he couldn't walk straight (per his request) so instead he just snapped his hips harder, practically battering Draco's prostate, and drank in every hitched breath and aborted moan and the sight of Draco struggling for composure even as he thrust back against Harry, meeting him inch for inch and making his lovely, leaking cock slap against his abdomen noisily. 

"Come on, Draco," he urged breathlessly. "Come for me."

~~~

The words coupled with the onslaught were enough to send Draco sailing over the edge. His mouth opened wide, his hands clenched tight on the bedclothes, his back arched completely off the bed, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he climaxed harder than he thought he ever had in his life.

"Harry...!" He cried as his cock convulsed between them. His release stained his stomach and dotted his chin. "Harry, Harry..."

~~~

Draco gave a silent scream and cracked like a whip. 

Harry came to the sound of his name and the feeling of Draco's inner walls gripping him in time with the shots of come splattering his smooth, pale torso. 

His own orgasm went on and on, wrung from the very depths of him by Draco's relentless muscles. Blood whooshed in his ears like the sound of the ocean and his heart hammered in his chest. His vision momentarily greyed at the edges.

He released Draco's legs to fall forward on his hands and lap up the mess between them. His arms shook with the strain of supporting himself and eventually gave out. He collapsed onto Draco with a _whumpf_  and drew him into a clinging embrace, pressing sloppy kisses to the side of his face and neck--anywhere he could reach, really--and grinning stupidly as he caught his breath.

~~~

Draco's legs fell open as they left their perch on Harry's shoulders. His hands, still shaking, moved to slide under a large, fluffy pillow to extract his wand. He muttered a spell and grinned as the Auror was left completely naked--his clothes, thankfully, appearing on the desk chair instead of vanishing.

With Harry thus bared, Draco shoved his wand away before sliding his hands onto the sweaty back of his well-used partner (after an "oof!" and roll of his eyes when the man dumped himself like a ruddy sack of potatoes). His fingers spread and pressed gentle circles into Harry's shoulders, neck, and ribs. He delighted in the not-quite-oppressive weight and the hot, tanned skin pressing into his; it felt like being wrapped in electricity and magic and fire all at once. He thrilled at the charge and his cock stirred a little, though weakly.

"I'm sure you were dying of warmth," he explained about the clothes, but despite that pulled Harry closer by hugging his legs over the man's hips and squeezing tight for a brief second.

He hummed. "That was fairly adequate. I may have to keep you after all."

~~~

Harry gave a mighty shiver as his clothes were whisked away. Draco may well have banished them for all he knew, and he couldn't care less. He'd replace his uniform out of his own pocket if he had to. (He already planned to buy Draco a new one of everything he'd cut--a house-elf could repair the damage easily, but he knew Draco would complain about them being less-than-perfect.)

He chuckled at the man's blasé pronouncement but rejoiced in the tiny, almost unnoticeable hug that preceded it. A year ago, he would have missed it entirely or written it off as incidental. He knew better now. 

He shifted them around until he could pull the covers completely over Draco and partially over himself (he was clammy with sweat and didn't prefer that sensation under sheets; he'd rather air dry and risk catching a chill). 

Trailing light fingers over Draco's forearm and suddenly feeling bashful, he gave a self-deprecating smile and said, "You know, I had planned to have a conversation with you first. I was going to tell you all the things I like about you and what you stood to gain from dating me and how I've been half in love with you since forever. It was going to be very romantic. You wouldn't be able to resist being swept off you feet. And _then_ we were going to tumble into bed together."

~~~

Draco solved the problem of their mutual stickiness with a gentle Scourgify. The sweat, smeared cum, oil, and lubricant were swept away with a simple wave of his wand. Once that was done, he finally settled beneath the sheets and blanket Harry thoughtfully covered him with. 

"A conversation, you say? When? Between your mouthfuls of half-eaten tart?" There was a playful smirk on his patrician features to soften the blow. "You eat like a five year old."

He placed a small kiss on Harry's cheek.

"Sleep. You can tell me all the reasons you like me during dinner. And again at breakfast and after work tomorrow..." He smirked. "As far as the benefits of dating you, I'm sure you'd rather show me, yes?"

Not minding to the possibility Harry might still be burning up from their activities, he threw the blankets over the Auror and then draped himself against his chest and one thigh.

"Though I do find the 'half-in love' part to be a surprise," he admitted thoughtfully. "Luckily for you the feeling is mutual. Admittedly, the idea only anchored itself in my mind after the mind-blowing sex, but..."

His smirk widened to a playful grin.

"I'm sure I liked my idea better. Only you Gryffindors would think a Slytherin wants romance and sap."

~~~

Harry snorted. "Says the man snuggling me to within an inch of my life," he dryly intoned.

It was almost unbearably hot under the blankets with the blond barnacle securely attached to him, but Harry was too happy to complain.

"You think rather highly of yourself if you believe my list is long enough to get us through this time tomorrow," he teased before dropping a kiss to the top of Draco's head. He was only taking the piss out of him. Of course Draco thought highly of himself--that was one of the things Harry found oddly endearing about him. "And at what point did the sex go from merely 'adequate' to 'mind blowing'? I must have missed that memo."

He could tell Draco was well pleased by the way he curled around him like a cat, all but purring with satisfaction. Harry didn't have any false modesty about his sexual prowess--he knew he was good--but he wondered how the experience compared to others Draco had had. (Some of the rumors about the goings-on in the Slytherin dorms were enough to make even Seamus blush, though he told them with relish when they were still in school.)

~~~

"Snuggling is a requirement, not an option," Draco asserted, as if that somehow negated how schmaltzy the act was all the same. "And I have many excellent qualities, all of which I am certain you will be happy to acknowledge in the next few days."

The tail end of his words came pleasantly enough, but his eyes glinted a promise, one that indicated Harry may not be allowed to leave his home much during that time. 

"Finally, _please_ , Harry--you don't need me to tell you you're great in bed, so stop fishing for compliments; it's crass. Now shush. I want a nap before dinner. And no, you are not allowed to bathe alone while in my house. For that matter, I have a number of rules you'll be expected to follow..."

And he proceeded to list several (some real, some made up), knowing full-well Harry would never follow most of them.

~~~

Harry, the soppy fool, grinned, snuggled in closer, and listened attentively to every last one of Draco's ridiculous rules. He'd break almost all of them before the end of the month (that was half the fun), but then, Draco knew that already.  

He couldn't wait. 


End file.
